I'll Never Leave You
by That Creative One
Summary: Based off a dream I had. A story involving Courfeyrac, a barricade, and the death of a young girl named Elisabeth- and the way he would always remember her. (Happy New Year's, please review- and btw, there's practically no friendship, it's rather angsty. Hints of family.) (Rather interesting thing I left out you might want to know- I am Elisabeth).


Behind the barricade, a group of revolutionary students called the Les Amis de l'ABC were preparing themselves for battle against the National Guard. The barricade itself had been built on a large, grassy expanse and was made of furniture, stacked and broken at odd angles. White tents were set up behind it, so rain wouldn't damage guns or ammunition. The leader, Enjolras, surveyed the work being done and saw a familiar flash of curly hair.

A young girl of about Gavroche's age had shown up a couple of days ago and hung around the barricade, offering her help to anyone who needed it. No one minded her presence any more than they minded Gavroche being there. Enjolras had seen Feuilly sit down with her and teach her how to clean the guns. Afterwards, Feuilly had said to Enjolras, "She must've had her hands on a gun before- she cleans them better than I do."

A few days later, there was nothing to be done, so the girl was sketching quietly beside a tent. Courfeyrac was talking with Enjolras, when he suddenly stopped dead in his tracks. He could hear Enjolras speaking to him, but a series of visions flashed before his eyes.

_The girl with the curly hair, in Courfeyrac's arms. She was nearly unconscious, blood soaking her shirt. He was running with her, running in the opposite direction of the people. He set her down, and she said something to him. Courfeyrac saw himself grab her hand, and say something back. _

Just as quickly as it had happened, the vision had ended. Courfeyrac blinked again and realized Enjolras was talking to him. "Courfeyrac? Courf, are you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," Courfeyrac said, although the images had shaken him deeply. A sudden feeling of familiarity grew in the pit of his stomach- he knew this girl, from somewhere. Somewhere before, he had seen her or known her. "I just zoned out for a moment."

Enjolras frowned, clearly not convinced. "Okay, then. We should probably go-"

But at that moment, a gunshot rang out, clear and loud. People were shouting, reaching for their guns. Courfeyrac saw a few people shouting at the girl to leave, and she dropped her sketchbook and ran. A few moments later, the Amis were at the barricade with their guns poised, only to see…Bahorel, with a gun and a sheepish look. "Misfire!" He yelled, and the Amis sighed with relief. "Sorry 'bout that."

Courfeyrac set his gun down at a tent, and noticed the sketchbook lying on the grass. He knew he shouldn't look…but something about it was calling him. He walked over and picked it up, and gasped in surprise.

It was an incredibly detailed, well-done sketch of him, Courfeyrac, holding the bleeding girl in his arms. The same thing he had seen in his vision. He dropped the sketchbook, and ran over to Feuilly.

"The girl you were showing how to clean guns," He said, a bit breathlessly, "What's her name?"

"Elisabeth," Feuilly said, a bit surprised at Courfeyrac intensity. Courfeyrac nodded in thanks and walked back to his tent, still shaken and confused.

Later that day, Elisabeth was back. She had retrieved her sketchbook and was consistently avoiding Courfeyrac. She hung about at the edge of the barricade and chatted with a few of the Amis occasionally, but mostly watched them.

And then the marching came.

This time, there was still lots of shouting, and the Amis readied themselves, and the National Guard appeared at the other side of the barricade and opened fire. However, they didn't seem very well coordinated and didn't shoot a single Ami. But through the shouting and panic and gunfire, Courfeyrac could make out a single shape at the other end of the barricade. Elisabeth's unconscious form, the ground beneath her body crimson with blood.

Immediately Courfeyrac was sprinting towards her, shoving past the Amis, not realizing the National Guard had retreated. When he reached her, he saw that her shirt was soaked with blood; she had clearly been shot or stabbed in the stomach. He scooped Elisabeth up like she weighed no more than a feather and ran, away from the barricade, trying to get her somewhere safe. When he was far enough from the barricade, he set her down, kneeling beside her body. It was then he saw she wasn't dead yet. Her eyes were open, but staring blankly ahead. Courfeyrac's hands were red with her blood and the sight of her bloodied body somehow broke something inside Courfeyrac. He let out a choked sob and gently stroked Elisabeth's curly hair. "Mon petit," He murmured sadly.

Elisabeth exhaled slightly, and Courfeyrac saw how shallow her breathing had become. He heard the footsteps of other Amis, and glanced up slightly. Elisabeth must have caught this movement, because she murmured, "Don't leave me,"

Courfeyrac smiled despite the fact tears were streaming down his face. He took her hand in his and said in a shaky voice, "I'll never leave you,"

"I don't want to be alone," She whispered, looking up at him like a child might look to a sibling for comfort. Courfeyrac nodded, choking back tears, and kissed her hand.

The faintest hint of a smile played on Elisabeth's lips when she suddenly froze. Her chest stopped moving, and if Courfeyrac checked, he would have found her pulse was no longer there. She was dead. She died with her deep brown eyes open, in the middle of a smile, trapped forever in a little shard of bliss.

With shaking hands, Courfeyrac closed her eyes. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned slightly to see Enjolras, who was watching with a sad look. Courfeyrac fell into his open arms and sobbed brokenly into Enjolras's shoulder. After a minute, he turned away to face Elisabeth and took her now-cold hand again. "What was her name?" Enjolras asked quietly. The rest of the Amis stood silently.

"Elisabeth," Courfeyrac muttered. Suddenly, the familiarity he had felt, the association with this girl burst and the dark-haired revolutionary suddenly realized who this girl was, what she was to him. It hit him so painfully Courfeyrac turned away from her body and started retching onto the ground, heaving repeatedly until there was nothing left to come up. "Courfeyrac?" He heard someone say worriedly. He turned back to Elisabeth's body.

"Oh my God," He whispered, the words burning in his throat. "She was my _sister._"

END

So this was based entirely off a dream I had. I always have the weirdest, most detailed dreams ever. I did add a bit so it would make sense, but yeah…crazy dream. Happy New Year's everyone! Thanks for reading and please review!


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